


Her Own Brand of Chaos

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: Fiona Nova was one of the few people who could put the fear of God in Gavin. When he would come to her with a wild, harebrained scheme, her eyes would light up with hellfire as she excitedly ran with his idea and made it somehow ten times more explosive and dangerous.***Fiona and Gavin's friendship, from their first meetings to becoming an unstoppable and chaotic duo wreaking havoc on Los Santos.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Her Own Brand of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I just love Fi so much that I wanna write her all the time :"")

Compared to the chaos of their future friendship, their meeting was anticlimactic. 

It had been nothing more than a rushed “hi” and “bye”. Gavin had been knee-deep in dealings with their partners in London, and he hadn’t given the new girl much thought before hopping on a plane. It wasn’t uncommon for their crew to hire ‘contractors’ or other independent criminals for specific jobs, and he’d honestly expected to never see her more than once or twice again.

So it was a big surprise when he discovered Fiona Nova was now a part of the inner crew. 

They’d been looking for a new wildcard, and it seemed like Geoff and Jack had come to the decision that she was the one. While Gavin appreciated her work and couldn't deny that she was a professional, he still couldn't give his approval--sure, she was funny, and seemed to have good chemistry with everyone else, but Gavin didn’t feel the need to approach her. She was still an  _ outsider _ and while everyone had been quick to be ingratiated to her antics and wide grin, Gavin wasn’t convinced yet.

It wasn’t until a month later during a stakeout that the two of them finally became a duo.

Both of them were playing the role of civilians while they waited for the others to finish reconnaissance. He’d been doodling on the corner of a napkin for what felt like  _ hours _ before the thought popped into his head.

“A million dollars, but your toes are always wet and all pruned up.”

There was a quiet scoff from someone that sounded suspiciously like Jack, but otherwise there wasn’t an immediate response from the others. 

“ _ So when I wear socks, do  _ they _ get wet and damp, too _ ?”

He hadn’t been expecting Fiona’s high-pitched voice to be the one to respond. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her sitting at the cafe across the street, sipping her coffee and not looking his way.

“Does it make a difference?”

“ _ Yes, it makes a huge difference! _ ”

“Then let’s say no, it doesn’t make your socks or shoes wet. It’s just contained to your feet.”

“ _ Then yes, gimme the milli.” _

“Wh--you  _ maniac _ ! I can’t belie--”

“ _ Show time, kiddos, _ ” Geoff barked through the comms, interrupting their debate. “ _ Save it for later _ .”

“I’m not letting this slide,” Gavin threatened, pushing himself up from the chair and making his way to the exit.

“ _ I'll be waiting _ ,” Fiona responded in a deadpan. She laughed at his spluttering, before their attentions shifted to the sudden explosion in the bank across the street and the ensuing chaos.

***

“Gav, hear me out.”

Fiona Nova was one of the few people who could put the fear of God in Gavin. When he would come to her with a wild, harebrained scheme, her eyes would light up with hellfire as she excitedly ran with his idea and made it somehow ten times more explosive and dangerous.

He  _ reveled  _ in it.

Everyone took the strange, young girl under their wings. She had warmed up to them quickly, charming everyone in the crew. She especially seemed to take great joy in tormenting Matt, the man who helped with some of the more  _ ambitious _ (read: absolutely insane) projects and plans the Fake AH crew came up with. He tolerated it with a long-suffering sigh, but Gavin had caught him smiling fondly more than once at her.

When she wasn’t harassing ‘Myatt’ _ , _ though, Fiona was wreaking havoc with Gavin. Jeremy and Michael were usually along for the ride, and Michael, especially, seemed to enjoy her specific brand of chaos. Almost every night ended with one of them having to pull her out of the line of fire, screaming at her to get out of the way, and she would give them borderline feral smiles before diving back into danger. Geoff had practically had a conniption one night, and Jack kept Excedrin on her person at all times.

More than once, everyone was left just trying to catch up with her crazy, half-baked plans.

“Fiona, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing?!” Jack shouted in disbelief over the gunfire.

“I’m ragin’!” she shouted back, her trigger finger firmly not moving. “Ya can’t stop me ragin’!”

It had the desired effect: the wild and almost feral look in her eye mixed with the almost constant spray of bullets from her automatic rifle had the other crew quickly evacuating the area, rushing to their cars or simply choosing to sprint away. Within minutes, the clearing was empty, and Fiona’s guns clicked to confirm they were empty.

“The ragin’ is over,” she called through the comms, waving cheerily at Ryan, who had been ducked behind crates the entire time. “It’s safe to come out now.”

It had led to a lecture from Geoff later about proper warnings before doing crazy shit, but any meaning it had was lost under Michael’s wheezing laughter and cackles as he high-fived Fiona and pulled her into a tight one-armed hug.

***

It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to get injured during their heists. Plans went awry, the cops lucked out, or someone tried to be a ‘hero’ and pulled out a gun.

But this was different--the cops had been waiting and ready in an ambush as soon as they had left the bank. It was obvious someone had leaked information, or the cops had somehow intercepted one of their messages, but that didn’t matter. 

What  _ did _ matter was the bullet that had bedded itself in Gavin’s thigh with a wet  _ thump _ , and the sirens that were fast approaching.

Fiona and he ducked into an alley, and he fell heavily against the wall, curling around his injured leg. Fiona was hovering over him, piercing eyes watching as a cop car went whizzing by them without stopping, no doubt drawn away by a distraction from one of the other crew members. Their comms were busy with everyone shouting over the others, and background sounds of gunfire. It wasn’t until Geoff’s voice barked out that they were going radio silent because of a mole that it all suddenly went quiet.

_ “Follow Plan H. Now, shut the fuck up.” _

It wasn’t the Plan H that had been written down, of course. Instead, it was referring to the cars, vans, and explosives that had all been hidden around the city in a fifteen-block radius of the bank.

“Just go ahead, Fi,” Gavin said through gritted teeth as he tore off his shirt and tied it painfully tight above the wound. 

“The van’s only a few blocks away,” Fiona argued heatedly, turning her attention to him and crouching next to him. 

“Well, I can’t fucking run, can I?” he ground out, pain flaring through his leg when he moved. “You can bust me outta jail later.”

It wasn’t ideal. If the LPD got their hands on the Fake AH crew’s Golden Boy, they would have him under lock and key with constant surveillance. Sure, he’d gotten in a few close calls and was picked up once or twice, but he hadn’t been caught in more than a vaguely illegal situation, which had led to the police reluctantly letting him go. 

But being caught when running from a bank after shooting at the cops? 

That wasn’t gonna make escape easy.

Before his inner monologue was finished, the whole world was suddenly tilted upside down. He let out a startled scream as Fiona hoisted him over her shoulders in a firefighter carry. The pain was so intense he thought he was going to throw up.

“Fiona, what the  _ fuck are you doing _ ?” he screamed as she grunted and stood up, balancing him precariously. “You’re  _ hurting _ my bloody fucking leg--”

“Shut up, asshole, I’m saving both of us!”

Her lithe body belied the surprising strength in her limbs as Fiona took off running again, only slowing down once to adjust her hold on Gavin. His injured leg was on fire from the pressure, and he let her know with a litany of curses and wails of pain.

“Just a bit farther,” Fiona said through gritted teeth, rounding the corner of the alley. “The van’s a few more blocks.”

“I’m gonna bleed out before we get there, you fucking git!”

“No you  _ won’t _ !”

“Yes, I fucking  _ will! _ ”

***

He ended up not bleeding out. 

Fiona got him to where Jeremy had been sitting anxiously in a van, and after Michael yanked the duo into the car, they were peeling out of the alleyway and into the streets. The police were distracted by Ryan and Alfredo on the other side of town as Gavin was rushed to Caleb, who was waiting with blood bags and a needle and thread.

It started to get hazy for Gavin, even before they reached Caleb’s hideout, and the strong pain medicine he was given didn’t help at all. But he was aware of Michael and Fiona hovering over him the entire time, and eventually Fiona being pushed into a seat so Caleb could look over her own injuries. She hadn’t been hurt, had she? He couldn’t remember…

The next thing Gavin knew, he was waking up in the sinfully soft bed in the guestroom of Geoff’s penthouse. (It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in the makeshift hospital room, and it likely wouldn’t be the last). As he looked around the room, he was surprised at the sudden rush of relief and comfort at the dark walls and bloody strips of gauze in the trash can.

Closing his eyes, Gavin let out a deep sigh, settling into the pillows and blankets. It wouldn’t be long before Caleb or someone came in to check on him, and he wanted to get some more rest…

Fifi.

His blood ran cold.

The only image that was stained on his mind was Fiona covered in blood, and Caleb hovering over her. Had she been hit? There was no way she  _ couldn’t _ have been shot--there had been easily hundreds of bullets pelting them as they ran. But what had happened? Was she okay?

The stitches in his leg pulled uncomfortably as he rolled out of the bed, but he ignored it, panic starting to pump through his veins. He stumbled towards the door, leaning against the wall and limping as he wrenched it open.

Fiona and Michael were sitting on the couch, and both of them stood immediately when Gavin entered.

“For fuck’s sake, moron, you’re gonna rip your stitches out,” Michael blurted out, striding over and helping the Brit over to the couch. His angry tone was tempered by the blatant concern on his face.

"Where are you hurt?" Gavin wheezed, out of breath from the pain that was still filtering through. "Jesus, Fifi, there's so much blood." 

It _was_ a lot of blood--a brownish stain spread from her shoulder all the way to her thigh. He couldn't see any visible wounds, and when he started trying to tug her sweatshirt out of the way to see her shoulder, she firmly pushed him away.

"I'm _fine_."

“But--Caleb was looking you over, I remember that. And your fucking _covered_ in blood.”

“It's all  _ your _ blood. I just dislocated a finger when I fell last night,” Fiona said. She held up her hand, showing the bruised finger that was wrapped with another. “No biggie.”

“No biggie?  _ No biggie _ ?” Anger rushed through Gavin, replacing the worry now that he was sure she hadn't been riddled with bullets. “You fucking  _ threw _ me over your shoulder when the fucking coppers were  _ shooting at us _ !”

“So fucking what, you  _ idiot? _ ” Fiona snarled, and she was abruptly just as heated as he was. “You  _ threw _ yourself in front of them. You’re lucky they just got your leg and not your head or chest! What were you  _ thinking _ ?” She emphasized the words in her last question with an angry shove on his shoulder, and Michael made a warning noise, arm twitching in an aborted motion to stop her.

Gavin stared at her in disbelief, jaw hanging open. His mind was completely blank--her sudden fury had knocked him off-kilter, and the pain medicine made his thoughts too sluggish to process everything quick enough.

Fiona stood from the couch, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. “Ryan says he has a lead on the rat,” she said shortly. “I’m gonna go help him.”

Without saying anything else, she left the penthouse.

***

More of the pieces fell together later on, with Michael filling in the gaps. Geoff had given Fiona a royal dressing-down after Gavin had stabilized from the bulletwound, berating her for reckless behavior and putting herself in danger after Gavin had told her to leave. (He was subjected to a similar lecture from his distressed and furious boss). 

She’d been upset even before the lecture, and afterwards she’d been practically inconsolable, which had been when Gavin had walked in.

He had expected Fiona to be the one to reach out, like she always was, but after a week it became apparent that she was willing to wait however long it took for him to be the one to come to her. 

Gavin spent the  _ next  _ week agonizing over what to say, to the point where even Meg was sick of his whining and fretting and had threatened to make him sleep on the couch if he didn’t get his shit together. 

Which is how he found himself in front of Fiona’s front door, ringing the doorbell and waiting nervously. He’d seen Jack’s car in the driveway and had nearly decided to just wait in his own car until she left, but he knew his nerves would get the better of him before that happened. 

That being said, he still almost turned tail when Jack opened the door, her expression unimpressed and eyebrow raised.

“Is...erm, is Fi home?” Gavin asked, voice cracking.

Jack didn’t say anything, stepping out of the way and motioning for him to come inside. It distinctly felt like Gavin was being led to his death.

Fiona was sitting on the couch and Matt was beside her, both of them immersed in their game. 

“J, who was at—“

Fiona’s expression shuttered when she saw Gavin standing in the doorway, and she closed her mouth. 

“Hey, Fifi,” Gavin greeted her with a hesitant smile. 

Fiona didn’t look away from the screen as she angrily jabbed at the buttons on the controller. Matt cursed colorfully as his character died. 

“What do you want?” she asked shortly. 

“I...wanted to talk—about last week,” Gavin said, clearing his throat. He glanced over at where Jack was making herself a drink at the minibar in the corner of the room. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Whatever you have to say will get back to me eventually,” Jack said shortly. Her steely gaze didn’t falter when she sipped on her martini. 

Matt, on the other hand, cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I gotta take...a call or something,” he mumbled as he stood from the couch. He patted Fiona’s shoulder and quickly left the room. 

Gavin sighed heavily, knowing Jack wasn’t going to be leaving any time soon. For whatever reason, Fiona had ramped up Jack’s already intense mothering instincts, and the redhead had almost immediately taken under her wing. 

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened,” Gavin said after a moment. Fiona raised an eyebrow, her half-lidded gaze unimpressed as she turned her body to face him. 

“No, you’re not.”

“What?”

“You just want something. Or Geoff made you come apologize. You’re not actually sorry.”

“For fuck’s—Fi, I wouldn’t be here if Geoff or anyone else had been trying to make me. I would’ve sent a three word text and that would’ve been it, you know me.”

She hummed noncommittally, but finally nodded. “Okay, but you’re on thin ice.”

He let out an annoyed noise, but pushed forward with what he wanted to say. "Look, I didn't think about myself. The worst that I thought would've happened was an irritating time getting out of jail. I guess...I didn't realize how scared you were, or how bad I was actually injured."

"I know," Fiona relented. "I talked it through with Michael. I know you weren't _trying_ to be a dick and get yourself killed for me." He let the insult slide.

“Then why are you still mad?”

“I’m not mad at you, Gav,” she said with a heavy sigh. Jack scoffed, and Fiona sent her a glare. “Well, I guess I was earlier, but not anymore. You just scared the crap outta me.”

“Don’t worry, I scared myself, too,” Gavin responded dryly. “Let’s not do that again, yeah?”

Fiona’s lips twitched and split into a wide grin. Gavin accepted the controller she handed him, and Jack settled back into the loveseat next to the couch, seeming content to watch them and sip her martini. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Matt’s hesitant voice floated in from the hallway.

“Are you guys good yet? I left my phone on the couch so I’ve just been staring at the wall.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and please stay safe!
> 
> If you have a spare dollar or two to drop, it would be much appreciated! https://ko-fi.com/continuitygains


End file.
